Love at Gunpoint
by Cyokie Revott
Summary: FILE TO SELF l Name: Gilbert Nightray l Occupation: assassin l Mission: Murder Oz Vessalius before given deadline. l Problems interfering with mission: I may possibly, maybe, kind of really like Oz Vessalius. l (More summary info inside.)
1. Chapter 1

**Summary:** FILE TO SELF l Name: Gilbert Nightray l Occupation: assassin l Mission: Murder Oz Vessalius before given deadline. l Problems interfering with mission: I may possibly, maybe, kind of really like Oz Vessalius.

 **Rating/warnings:** T for intense violence and emotional themes that some may be too young to understand. (Nothing inappropriate, but things may get too psychological for younger children.) Probably some other minor reasons that aren't big enough to mention. This may be updated.

 **Type of story:** AU (alternate universe), not a crossover

 **Time period:** current time

 **Ships:** The ship this story is focused on is Oz x Gilbert. There will probably be some other ships that do not play as prominent roles. This, like the rating/warnings, may be updated.

Enjoy!

 **...**

" _This_ is who you want me to kill?"

Twenty-four-year-old Gilbert Nightray peered hard at the detailed file he'd been given, squinting as if he couldn't possibly believe what he was seeing. He had been hired countless times before and succeeded in eliminating his target every time, but sometimes he still wondered what the hell he was doing. An _assassin,_ for God's sake—not something he had ever counted on becoming. But he needed the money.

He wasn't being selfish. That was the honest truth. On the inside, Gilbert was actually a pretty decent guy—although perhaps you can't really say that about an assassin. But Gilbert's family was steadily running out of money. They were paying for his younger brother Vincent's college, and college was more expensive than it ought to be these days. And in this time of expensive colleges, Vincent's was still considered expensive as hell.

At one time, the Nightray family had been considerably wealthy. Gilbert still remembered when they never spoke about money—when they never _had_ to. He'd had a ton of money to his name, and so did Vincent, so the two of them could escape from their family as much as they wanted. In fact, they could pretend they had nothing to do with the Nightrays in the first place.

Gilbert's family wasn't exactly the best family to be born into. Most of the time, his parents didn't give a crap what he and Vincent did. They'd taught them to fend for themselves as much as possible at a very young age. It wasn't as if Mr. and Mrs. Nightray were cruel to their sons, but it was dreadfully obvious they preferred staying away from them. Even if there were definitely people who had it worse, Gilbert and Vincent had, no doubt, been damaged by their parents' dismissive attitudes.

So in truth, Gilbert felt being an assassin was the only option he had. He was too caring for his own good, and he knew it. He felt as though making money for his family was _his_ job, no matter if he was the only person who made an effort in the first place or if he had to do something horrible in order to do it. Gilbert never pushed Vincent to get a job, and he certainly couldn't push his parents, nor did he want to.

And so Gilbert had taken up his cute little habit of being hired as an assassin. It made his family money; that was all that mattered. He had to remind himself of that over and over again so that he wouldn't freak out or quit. He had never wanted to murder, but this was the only choice he had—which technically meant he _had_ no choice.

Usually, Gilbert wasn't overly fond of those who hired him. He found anyone who could hire someone to kill someone else without remorse despicable, although that was probably a very twisted logic, considering _he_ was the person that was hired. He'd dealt with some pretty messed-up people in the past.

Well, all of them were messed-up, but some more than others.

But Justin Pyre wasn't a super-special psycho like some of the other people Gilbert had worked with. He was just a very greedy, thirty-two-year-old man. Justin was the owner of Timmy's, a world-famous company that produced children's toys. (Gilbert had yet to figure out why a man named Justin called his company _Timmy's,_ but that was a minor detail.) Justin was filthy rich from selling all those toys, but a new children's toy company was rising to fame, and it seemed that very soon it would override Timmy's.

This young company was called Cherry Blossom. Even Gilbert had heard of it, despite the fact that he couldn't be less interested in the children's toy-producing industry. The file Gilbert was holding was of the owner of Cherry Blossom—his next victim.

Apparently, with this young company came its young company owner. The owner of Cherry Blossom was a fifteen-year-old boy named Oz Vessalius. According to Justin—who'd done extensive research on Oz due to his… _grudge,_ for lack of a better word—Oz had plenty of help from adults who had experience. Oz was very intelligent for a teenager, though. Enough so that he could mostly run his company by himself. Gilbert had some trouble believing all of this, but…

 _No wonder Cherry Blossom's toys are so successful among children,_ Gilbert thought, leering down at the photo of Oz. _Cherry Blossom's owner is a child himself._

"Do you have a problem with going after him? Because I could hire someone else, you know." Justin groused. "I found a lot of other options. It wouldn't be difficult."

Gilbert bit his lip. Justin was paying him well, and there was no way he could lose this amount of money. Hastily, he assured the older man, "No, no, it's fine. I'll go after him. There's no problem. Just…he's only a kid."

"Whatever! Obviously he's not _just_ a kid, if he can run a company that overruns mine." Justin looked furious, something sparking in his eyes. Gilbert had seen that same thing in most of the people who hired him. It was anger, but the type of anger you'd never see in a normal person. It was the type of anger that would make you want to steer clear of someone at all costs. The type of anger that wasn't quite sane.

"Um, yeah," Gilbert said, coughing awkwardly. "So, this Oz kid—is he really that smart?"

"Hell yes. I swear that little brat is a genius if I ever saw one. Which is why, if we don't get rid of him _soon,_ I'll be ruined." Justin snapped. "Tell me, Gilbert Nightray, are you going to get out there and do your job? Or are you just going to stand here and waste your time pitying Oz Vessalius?"

Gilbert averted his eyes, feeling terribly embarrassed and, at the same time, irritated. It was _natural_ for him to feel bad, wasn't it? He felt bad when he was _normally_ killing people; now he was being hired to kill a kid.

Well, maybe it wasn't natural for an _assassin_ to feel bad…but it hardly made a difference.

"I'm going. Do I have a deadline?" Gilbert asked, a bit coldly.

"You damn well do. I want to hear about Oz Vessalius's death before two months are up. Got it?" Justin hissed through his teeth.

"I've got it. Oz will be dead by then, I promise you." Gilbert started walking out of the man's house before glancing over his shoulder. "I won't let you down. You'll be glad you hired me."

Justin snorted. "I sure as hell hope so."

 **…**

Oz Vessalius smiled warmly at his sister, Ada Vessalius. She was eighteen and in college, so he didn't get to see her all that often anymore. They e-mailed and talked on the phone a lot, especially since Oz had started Cherry Blossom, but it was different for them to see each other in person.

Oz and Ada was extremely close—they always had been. Their mother had died when they were very young, and their father wanted absolutely nothing to do with them. Their father had handed them over to their uncle Oscar as soon as their mother had died. Although their father didn't like either of them, he seemed to particularly despise Oz. Both had been severely damaged by their father's cruelty towards them—Oz more than his older sister.

"So Cherry Blossom is a success?" Ada asked brightly. She was an optimist, one who made you feel like smiling just from the aura she gave up.

"It sure is! God, I was nervous at first. I thought it was going to fail miserably." Oz laughed freely. "But look at me now—owner of Cherry Blossom, a company that's sure to be known all over! I'm seriously thinking it might even top Timmy's. Maybe I'm crazy. But that's what I'm thinking."

"You're not crazy," Ada said excitedly. "I think so too! Uncle Oscar was telling me about how your sales are through the roof. And everyone is talking about Cherry Blossom! Timmy's has been around for a while. It's your time, Oz!"

Oz grinned, grateful for Ada's encouragement and deeply confident himself. "The money's pouring in. We're going to be rich, Ada! In fact, we'll probably be rich very, _very_ soon. Damn, this is awesome." He grin turned into a regular smile. "Well, that's enough about me. What's new with you? Do you like college?"

"It's wonderful." Ada's eyes sparkled. Oz smiled wider. He loved seeing his sister happy and cared about her endlessly. "I love it. I was…I was really worried about leaving you and Uncle Oscar, but it's…I guess…really fun being on my own." She blushed self-consciously. "Not that I don't enjoy being with you. You're the best!"

"Aw, don't worry about it. I get it. It's good to have some time with your girlfriends. And without being restricted by your overprotective brother and uncle," Oz added, laughing. Then his face turned abruptly serious. "Hey, Ada, anything having to do with the boyfriend situation…?"

Ada blushed, smiled, and fixed her eyes on the ground. "N-no…not yet, I mean. I don't like anyone. But…maybe…"

"Well, thank God you're not into any weird guys yet. That means I have time to prepare." Oz cracked a smile, although he really was oversensitive about Ada having a boyfriend. Oz had always acted as Ada's older brother rather than her younger, and he didn't like the idea of Ada getting independent enough to start dating.

It wasn't that he didn't want her to be independent; he was fully supportive of her going out on her own and having a great time. But Oz was overprotective, and he was nervous of what some group of creeps would do to his beautiful sister.

Ada took the chance to change the subject, albeit uncomfortably. "Oz, do you think Timmy's…will come after you? Because Cherry Blossom is stealing their business…?"

Oz stifled a laugh. "Ada, stop it. You're worrying too much. Timmy's isn't going to _come after me._ Timmy's and Cherry Blossom are rival companies, not enemy soldiers."

A tiny smile graced Ada's lips. Without meeting her brother's eyes, she gave a small nod. Oz was beaming. It was so great to see his sister again. He had to admit that he missed her all the time, no matter if that made him lame or not. He and Oscar could angst over Ada's absence all they wanted. And they did.

They didn't tell Ada that, of course. They didn't want her to worry about them.

Oz still mused at the fact that a human being such as his sister could exist. Ada was kind and loving, beautiful and strong—more mentally than physically. She had a peaceful, mature outlook on life that Oz greatly respected. It was an outlook he'd never managed to acquire himself.

Ada was precious to him, and he never wanted to lose her. To be honest, he thought his uncle and sister's happiness at the money Cherry Blossom was receiving was better than the actual money. Oz was more selfless than most people knew. Behind that mischievous, childish exterior was a brilliant-minded, caring, amazing person. He just hoped Cherry Blossom's success would go on, for the good of Oscar and Ada.

Oz smiled and sighed, gazing out the window. He hoped the owner of Timmy's wouldn't be too annoyed at the loss of sales. It was probably ridiculous to be thinking about that—this was business. You won some, you lost some.

Still, Oz couldn't help but wonder what the owner of Timmy's was thinking. He knew it was silly, but he couldn't help it.


	2. Chapter 2

Gilbert, driving his car at a moderate speed on the highway, glanced down at the file he'd been given by Justin. He snorted indignantly as he saw Oz Vessalius's residence was listed, along with a detailed address. Usually he had to go and actually _track down_ the person he'd been hired to kill. That had always irked him, but now it seemed kind of stupid that he'd been given Oz's address. It wouldn't take long to get there, and Oz was only a kid. Surely Justin thought this over, and Justin had seemed like a rather impatient man, so why had Gilbert been given a two-month deadline? He could probably have this all over and done with during a week or less.

In fact, he was already one his way to Oz's home. It wasn't very far, an hour and a half away from where he'd started. If there was any sort of delay, though, even a small one, it would probably take two hours. It wasn't like it made a difference. There had been several times in the past when Gilbert had been forced to reach his destination by plane; otherwise, it was always a very long car drive, usually several days long.

But this time, Gilbert had been provided with an exact destination instead of having to track his future victim down, and on top of that, the address wasn't far away. Plus he'd been given a very decent deadline, considering the circumstances. Most of the time, Gilbert had to rush to finish all he had to do before the deadline he was given. But it seemed like his current mission barely entailed any work at all.

And that meant that, if he wanted to, Gilbert could probably take his sweet time completing this mission. It might be nice, for a change, to not be rushed. Perhaps he'd have a nice time examining Oz's neighborhood. Maybe he'd visit _other_ neighborhoods. Gilbert barely knew what to do with all this freedom. To someone else, this wouldn't have seemed like anything new, but Gilbert wasn't used to getting to choose what he was going to do. It was as if he spent every tiny bit of his time tracking someone down or trying to kill someone without being noticed. And when he wasn't doing _that,_ he was trying to get hired by someone who wanted him to.

Even with all the benefits, there was still one more: no matter how smart this "Oz Vessalius" was, he was still a teenager. Gilbert knew for a fact that he'd never had to deal with an assassin before, and he was young and innocent. He'd have no idea what to do in the presence of one. And Gilbert was a professional, with plenty of experience. Oz would be dead _way_ before the deadline was up.

Gilbert had to admit that this all sounded far too good to be true. If anything, this mission seemed too easy.

 **…**

After Ada had left, Oz went to his bedroom and cried.

Oz was an intelligent boy and an incredible person, and he tried to act chipper and happy around other people. He _tried._ He didn't want anyone to know how he really felt, because he decided that would just dampen the moods of people around him and cause them trouble. It was a twisted train of thought, really—sacrificing his own happiness for everyone else's. And despite what a lot of people would think—including Oz—it wasn't a heroic act, either.

In fact, all it was doing was damaging Oz more and more. If he'd told someone—meaning Oscar or Ada—maybe he could be getting help right now. But no, that could never happen, because Oz was hell-bent on hurting himself. At least, that was how it seemed.

Oz didn't know where the tears had come from, or the all-too-familiar feeling that his heart was a bottomless pit with nothing to fill it. Just a few seconds ago, he'd been so glad. He'd felt like he was glowing with happiness at seeing his one and only sister. What had happened to all that joy? How was it possible that his happiness could just… _drain_ like that…and in such little time?

Oz felt like this more than people knew, though. He felt like this every day. He was just extremely good and concealing it so that no one could see it. He blinded them with an exuberant smile and glittering green eyes and a chipper, childish attitude mixed with false arrogance.

Nobody knew that Oz wanted to die.

He wanted to die, and he thought about it every single day. The feelings of hopelessness and sorrow and everything else—Oz took hard blows from every one of them. Oz's life felt weirdly empty to him, and it bothered him more than the public—or even those close to him—knew. He'd never been in love. Sure, he'd had small crushes once and a while, but he'd never been _in love._

Sometimes he brought that up lightly with his uncle, and Oscar always said he would be soon. When he brought it up with other people, they said he was too young anyway, and that it was completely normal. They said he shouldn't even be worrying about it.

Since when did they have a right to say what he should and shouldn't be worrying about?

The problem was that whenever all the sadness seemed to disappear and the happiness would wash over him like untainted sunlight, Oz would finally gain some hope—for a second. And then after the rush, he'd be struck down harder than the last time. It was like his whole life was a drug. He'd get high, and then he'd just…go out.

Oz was quite good at _pretending_ he was happy, which was a useful skill, considering he didn't want anyone to know he was depressed and suicidal and had more problems than he could count. He thought he had no right to feel this way. After all, he was the owner of a steadily-growing company and had a loving family.

Well…kind of.

Oz's father wasn't like Oscar or Ada. He _hated_ Oz more than anything else in the world. Oz would bet on all that he owned that his father would kill him, if it wasn't against the law and he wouldn't get locked up for it. Oz's father's name was Xai.

Oz knew how Xai spoke about him. Instead of calling him "he," he called his son "it." And to Xai, Oz wasn't a human being. He was an object. He was a _thing_ that didn't really exist for any good purpose and didn't have rights of its own. Xai thought that Oz was vile in his entirety.

And Oz knew why. Xai hated him because it was after Oz's birth that his wife had become terribly ill. It wasn't Oz's fault, obviously, but Xai, in his corruption, was convinced that it was. Xai's wife Rachel had already birthed Ada, since Oz was the younger of the two children. Rachel had given birth to Oz just before losing her life.

Xai didn't seem to be very fond of Ada, either, but he certainly liked her more than he liked Oz. He liked anyone and everything more than he liked Oz.

Oz would never recover from what his father had said to him. The words felt like a curse. Every day, they haunted him, echoing in his head over and over again. Each passing day, every fleeting moment, Oz seemed to believe them more and more.

" _A child like that should never have been born._ "

 **…**

Gilbert was only thirty minutes away from reaching Oz's house, but he'd pulled over to get a ham-and-cheese sandwich from a cheap deli. The sandwich wasn't particularly good—the bread was dryer than dirt, the ham tasted old, and the cheese tasted fake—but it would have to do, because Gilbert was especially hungry. Under normal circumstances, Gilbert probably would have been wincing at the awful sandwich. Under the current circumstances, Gilbert barely cared about the taste. His stomach was just happy to be receiving something.

Until then, Gilbert had been eating standing up. There hadn't been any open seats. It was a deli, so it certainly didn't have an abundance of seats in the first place, but all the seats had been taken. A heavy, middle-aged man had just gotten up and left, so Gilbert sat down. Abruptly, just as he sat down, he felt his phone vibrating in his pocket.

Gilbert took it out, wondering who was calling up and praying that it wasn't Justin, asking how he was doing. Although he had to eat to stay alive, it would still be embarrassing to be called by Justin and have to say he was eating a really bad sandwich at a deli he'd stopped at, as an assassin.

He practically sighed in relief when he saw Vincent's name on the screen. Then he tensed up again, realizing Vincent wasn't much better than anyone else. He cared deeply about his younger brother and wanted to help him with all his might, but Vincent messed with his emotions in more ways than he knew was possible.

Vincent was not the easiest person to talk to. But Gilbert accepted the call anyway.

"Hello?"

"Gil! I'm so glad you picked up. I came home and you weren't there." Gilbert could practically _hear_ the pout in Vincent's voice. "What're you doing? Why aren't you here?"

"I'm…uh, at work." Gilbert had already admitted to Vincent what he did to make their family money, and Vincent had been strangely fine with it, even encouraging it. _Anything you want to do, Gil._ That was what Vincent had said, without a trace of concern or disturbance. Some things about his brother, Gilbert would never understand.

Despite all this, though, Gilbert still felt awkward whenever he was on a mission to say it to Vincent flat-out. Therefore, they'd wordlessly agreed on a code. Gilbert would say he was at work whenever he was on a mission. Not only would it prevent any nosy idiots from getting suspicious, but it would also spare Gilbert the awkwardness.

"Oh, I see." Simply from hearing Vincent's voice, Gilbert could guess with an impressive amount of accuracy what his expression was. Gilbert had no doubt that a cryptic smirk was spreading across Vincent's face at that moment. "Who is it this time?"

"It's Oz Vessalius." Gilbert said quietly. He knew anyone listening would have no idea why he was mentioning the teenage boy, but he still didn't want to give anything away about his mission.

"Oz Vessalius? The owner of the Cherry Blossom toy company…?" Vincent asked vaguely, although he surely knew the answer. Gilbert wasn't surprised his brother had heard of Oz, and was also aware that it probably wasn't due to Cherry Blossom's popularity. Vincent had an odd hobby of ordering dozens of stuffed animals and then mutilating them with scissors. He'd probably ordered some from Cherry Blossom by now.

This "hobby" deeply disturbed most who found out, but Gilbert had gotten used to it. That wasn't to say he _understood_ it—to this day Vincent refused to tell him why he did such a thing, and there was no way _Gilbert_ could figure it out.

He wondered if Vincent would be agitated that he was going to end the life of the owner of a toy company he was most likely a customer of…

But Vincent didn't seem irked at all. "Hmm…fascinating…but be careful, Gil. If you eliminate that child in silence, it will be a victory for you, but if you're found out, it'll be big trouble. And we don't want that…so…do approach with caution. I don't want anything bad happening to you, either. You're my dear brother, and I can't afford to lose you…"

Gilbert twitched in irritation. It wasn't at anything Vincent had said, but he had never liked how Vincent spoke every word with a mysterious conviction that made everything that came out of his mouth sound dangerous.

"I'll be fine, Vince," Gilbert replied, trying and failing to keep the annoyance out of his voice for that section of his speech. Soon after, he forced himself to sound normal, for the sake of both him and his brother. "You don't have to worry about me. Listen, Vince, do whatever you need to. If you have assignments for college, do them. I don't want you worrying about me. Pretend I don't exist."

Vincent let out a chuckle. "Oh, I don't know if I could do _that._ But if you don't want me to think about you…then I won't. Or at least, I'll try."

"Yeah...uh, love you, Vince." Gilbert wrapped up uneasily.

"You too, Gil…" Vincent was the one who hung up first.

Gilbert sighed. He never would understand that brother of his, but he'd make sure he was doing well until the very end. Being an assassin was what he had to do to hold his family up. And in truth, it wasn't that he cared very much about helping his parents. In fact, if Vincent didn't exist, he probably wouldn't be trying to make money at all. This was just how much he cared for Vincent.

He exited the deli, waving a quick thank-you to the man at the counter—although he really had no reason to be doing so, considering how horrible that sandwich had been. Gilbert ambled up to his car and got back inside in one swift movement.

Oz Vessalius had better watch out.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N - Okay! Before you guys read anything, I'd like to apologize for the wait for this chapter. I started writing Love at Gunpoint sort of on impulse, and although I had (and still have) every intent to finish it, I definitely didn't have things planned out. So I started this chapter and then kind of had no idea what to do. I wanted to complete it, but because of this, I had a lot of thinking to do, and I had a lot of problems coming up with what to do now. But it's finished now, and you can definitely bet on the next chapter! In fact, I plan to finish Love at Gunpoint. I hope you enjoy chapter three!

 **...**

Oz was still crying. Sometimes he did this for hours. He'd turned off all the lights—it made him feel better, with the tears streaming down his face. It made him feel like he belonged.

Oz had been wishing, for a long time, that something amazing would happen in his life to turn the tables around. He'd took it upon himself to believe in miracles—or at least try to. He hadn't decided to do that because he _actually_ believed in miracles, but because if he didn't believe in them or didn't at least pretend to, his life would just stay the same.

At one time, Oz was actually succeeding in convincing himself miracles were real. He heard about them every day. They happened to lucky people, big or small, and absolutely changed their lives. But although Oz was one of the people who needed a miracle the most, naturally, he never got one.

And so his hope had basically disintegrated by now. He couldn't tell himself that a miracle would fly into his life and make him happy for the first time in what seemed like forever. Without hope, how could you live? You just went around, thinking— _knowing_ —that everything was going to end up badly, that nothing you did would make a difference. That was how Oz Vessalius lived. It was awful, and he hoped that nobody else lived this way, despite the fact that he knew for certain some people did.

The reason Oz cared so much about falling in love was because he'd heard it was the one thing that could bring hope when everything seemed hopeless. Mentions of love and the beauty and miracles it brought with it were everywhere—coming from books, TV shows, and other peoples' mouths, whether they're adults or not. If love was really as amazing as everyone said, it could lighten Oz's life with happiness again. It could wash away the misery that had been with him for an eternity.

But Oz had long decided all this "true love" stuff was absolute crap. If it existed, it would have presented itself to him already….just like he'd decided about God and angels and most good things.

 **…**

Gilbert had finally arrived at the address he'd been given by Justin. He'd parked near Oz's home.

There was nothing spectacular about the house of Oz Vessalius, and Gilbert suspected it was because the Vessaliuses had been getting along only as well as the average person until Cherry Blossom had hit it off. The house was a moderate size and nothing looked new and shiny about it besides the paint job.

Gilbert was mildly surprised that Oz hadn't spent all his money by now, being a teenager and all, and gotten himself a mansion or something. But that was beside the point. If Oz was here, this mission would be all too easy. He'd kill the kid way, _way_ before the deadline, and he'd finally get to see if there was any appreciation or joy in Justin Pyre.

Sneaking along the side of the house and making sure he either ducked below or darted by any windows, Gilbert searched for any sign on life within the house. None of the lights were on, and he wasn't able to hear any noises. He'd just gotten there, too, so it was impossible for anyone to suspect his presence yet.

 _Just my luck,_ Gilbert thought bitterly. However, he figured he should probably check inside just in case. He walked up the front door and promptly picked the lock and opened the door. Sometimes he wondered why we were still even _using_ locks instead of something more secure, considering how easy they were to pick.

Gilbert slipped through the door, only opening it so that he could squeeze his body through. He didn't want to make too much noise. He also looked down, taking great care of how much pressure he put into his feet with each step and making sure he avoided any sketchy-looking floorboards.

Interestingly enough, Gilbert was sure he heard the distant, quiet noises of crying. It was kind of creepy since he was skulking through a dark, seemingly-empty house, but if the crying person was Oz, he'd be lucky.

As the crying noises got nearer and more distinct, Gilbert finally pinpointed what room they were coming from. He peeked into the room, only to immediately take a few hasty steps away from the doorway and huddle against the wall.

It was Oz.

Gilbert practically sighed in relief. He was still working it all out in his head, but if he did it quick enough and without being noticed until it was too late, Oz could be dead in a matter of minutes—and Gilbert could be paid and ready for another mission in less than two hours.

Then the crying stopped.

"Uncle Oscar? I know you're there. Just come in. It's not funny."

Gilbert bit his lip. _How did he know someone was here? I didn't make a sound, and he didn't see me…_

"Uncle, just _come in._ Stop pretending like you're not there. You _know_ I can sense it whenever someone's trying to creep up on me."

 _Great,_ Gilbert growled in his mind. He knew most people got a certain sense that someone was there if someone was trying to creep up on them, but this kid must've been special. He'd dealt with a whole lot of people before, and he never went noticed until it was far too late for them to do anything.

"Good grief, _why_ aren't you coming in? Is that even you? Uncle…?"

 _If he comes outside, I'll just shoot him right away, and this will all be over with,_ Gilbert thought coldly. He wasn't going to let some lousy teenager give him more trouble than any of his victims had in the past.

Oz stepped outside. The moment is eyes fixed on Gilbert, he froze up. That was Gilbert's chance—but he was paralyzed.

 _Why can't I move?!_

Oz narrowed his eyes coldly and dropped into the lousy fighting stance of a teenager who had never needed to use, much less was taught, a fighting stance. "Who the hell are you? Why are you in my house? Moreover, how did you get in?"

"Relax, kid, I didn't break anything." Gilbert growled. _Why am I answering to this kid? I could shoot him right now and this would be over!_ He hastily grabbed for his gun, but after his hand wrapped around it, he couldn't aim it at Oz.

All the guilt about having to murder an adolescent came flooding back to Gilbert in one extremely conflicted moment. He knew what he was supposed to do, but that didn't mean it was what he _should_ do…

Being a sensitive guy on the inside got in the way of being an assassin, and at that moment Gilbert wished he could curl up and die. He felt ashamed of himself.

 _There's still time. Calm yourself. When you're ready, just pretend Oz is an adult. Pretend he's like all the other people you've killed._

That train of thought really wasn't helping.

"I don't _care_ if you broke anything. Just get out! You have a Goddamn gun and you're obviously here to hurt me, so if you're not going to do it, _get out!_ " Gilbert was shocked to see tears flowing down Oz's face. "Hurt me if you want to. Just get it over with. I was going to kill myself sometime anyway."

Gilbert bit his lip so hard he wouldn't be surprised if it started bleeding. It didn't though—or maybe he just didn't notice. He was terrified and guilt-stricken from the teenager's words. Justin hadn't told him Oz already wanted to die. The whole point of being an assassin was killing people who weren't _supposed_ to die.

No. The point of being an assassin was to kill who you were paid to kill and find another mission after you complete one. Feeling bad wasn't an option. Mercy wasn't an option.

"Come on! Are you going to shoot me? Stop making me wait! Get it the hell over with!"

Oz was crying harder now, and Gilbert's poor, overemotional heart was struggling to numb itself. It was pathetic, but it was Gilbert, and Gilbert was pathetic.

"What kind of person _wants_ to die, huh? Most people know that life isn't a given!" Gilbert didn't know what made that come out of his mouth, and he knew he shouldn't have said it when Oz gave him a death glare through his tears.

"I _know_ life isn't a given. I just want to die anyway. I don't care if life is a given or not. My life has been a pool of misery thus far, so kill me!" Oz screamed the final three words of that last sentence. "Do you just go around killing people? You came here to kill me. I'm not stupid. Do you know why I want to die? It's not just because I'm miserable. I'm selfish, but only to a point." He shook his head violently, as if ridding himself of some disturbing thought or memory. "I'm only a burden to the people around me. Father hates me. He doesn't want me. I live with my uncle and sister, but I only weigh them down. I'm not an asset. I tear everything down without even trying. So you kill me or I kill myself—it's one of them! And it's all the same. One of them is just more delayed."

The hopelessness in Oz's voice was something that Gilbert should never have heard come out of a youth's mouth. Gilbert couldn't comprehend why Oz was telling him all this. He was a perfect stranger, and he came there to kill Oz, but Oz seemed completely comfortable with that. He _wanted_ to die.

Gilbert had never gone on a mission to eliminate someone who was already contemplating suicide.

It was so lame that Gilbert was feeling bad for this sorry excuse of an angst-ridden teenager. It was so lame that he couldn't just pull the trigger and go back to Justin—mission completed.

"I'm not going to kill you."

Gilbert didn't even _think_ about saying the words before they slipped out of his mouth. But both his body and his heart seemed to be working against him today, as he dropped his gun and kicked it to the other side of the room.

"Why?" Oz snarled. "Are you scared? How could you be scared of me? That's just stupid."

"No, I don't kill suicidal, dramatic adolescents," Gilbert groused. "Until now, I've killed people who actually _wanted_ to live."

Oz gritted his teeth, trying to prevent more tears from spilling out. He was obviously disappointed that Gilbert wasn't going to kill him, and it almost killed Gilbert. The older one of the two didn't understand someone who wanted to die so badly, and more than anything, he felt _bad_ for someone like that.

"So you're, like, a hit man or something?" Oz demanded, sniffling and wiping his eyes.

"I prefer 'assassin.' It sounds better." Gilbert said pointedly.

"Does it? Well, as far as I know, experienced assassins don't stoop to petty teenagers who are ready and _willing_ to die." Bitterness spilled out of Oz's words. Oddly enough, though, there also seemed to be a great deal of weakness there.

"Yeah, well, I'm not like other assassins." Gilbert turned his back on the boy, ready to leave. If he wasn't going to complete his mission here and now, he had no reason to stay. He'd figure out complications—such as how he was _ever_ going to complete his mission now—later.

"Wait! Don't…don't leave yet."

Gilbert turned around sharply, not quite understanding why he was obeying Oz but obeying him nonetheless. This teenager put him in some sort of strange bind.

Oz was staring at the ground, looking horribly embarrassed. "Uh…I've always been interested in…assassins and stuff. I mean, how…how do you _live_ like that?"

"What're you hinting at?" Gilbert grumbled. His patience was beginning to run out.

"Nothing…" Oz looked up at Gilbert, smiling slyly. You would never have guessed he was crying and screaming about his desire to die just a few minutes ago. Gilbert wondered briefly if this was how, presumably, nobody knew about Oz's depression. "It's just, you go around killing people. Your career is literally _killing people._ Do you, like, feel _guilt?_ How can you live with yourselves? Are you completely apathetic somehow?"

"No, twerp, I'm not apathetic." Gilbert held back a satisfied smile that was threatening to come over him as Oz pouted. "Are you trying to get me to stay here and talk to you about murdering people? Because if so, you're a really weird kid…"

"I sure am." Oz said, almost sounding prideful about it. He grinned. "So? If you're not going to kill me, I assume you have nothing better to do."

"This is _so_ weird…" Gilbert muttered a bit begrudgingly before following Oz to the dining room and sitting down.

 _What am I doing?_ Gilbert had no time to ponder this question as Oz started shooting him with questions about life as an assassin. _Do you feel bad after you kill someone? Do you have another job? How much money does being an assassin make you? How many people have you killed? Do you like being an assassin?_ And there were countless more. Oz now seemed chipper and fascinated—albeit by something he definitely shouldn't have been fascinated by, but still.

 _Is this the same Oz who was yelling and weeping?_

"Look, _Oz_ …I should go. You shouldn't even be talking to me. Didn't your parents ever tell you about talking to strangers?" Gilbert put on his best glower, but it definitely wasn't effective. In fact, he felt more like smiling than glowering, which made absolutely no sense.

Oz visibly flinched at the mention of his parents. "My father never tells me _anything._ And my mother is dead."

Gilbert blinked rapidly, unsure of what to make of this new information—or what to say. He always thought that when people said _I'm sorry_ during situations like this it sounded heartless and insincere, something you'd say because you had nothing else to say. So he stayed silent.

"I live with my uncle and my big sister. And _they're_ always busy. I suppose maybe they told me about talking to strangers, but they also might not have." Oz's smile was back and bordering on a smirk now. "Who knows? I probably wasn't even listening."

"Either way, I'm sure one of them will be back soon." Gilbert looked away. Privately he wanted to find out more about Oz—about his life, his father, how he ran a company when he was so young—but he knew he shouldn't. He was already getting enraptured by Oz when he was supposed to be _killing_ him. "I'll go."

Gilbert tried to stand up, but he only got off the seat about two inches, because Oz wrapped his hands around Gilbert's wrist and fixed him with a determined stare.

"No, you won't." Oz deadpanned. Gilbert bit his lip. "There are still things I want to know about you."

"How about we talk about _you_ for a change?" Gilbert spat, knowing he probably shouldn't have said that but not taking it back.

Oz gave Gilbert a slightly annoyed, slightly sharp stare. This kid's mood swings came and went so fast that Gilbert was starting to wonder if there was something wrong with him.

 _Oz is depressed, so…I guess he probably has a lot of practice acting happy and stuff so that nobody can tell…? Maybe…_

"I told you. I live with my uncle and big sister, my father doesn't tell me anything, and my mother is dead. And obviously you know I run Cherry Blossom. That's probably the reason you were called over to kill me, right? Somebody wants to get rid of Cherry Blossom or some crap like that." Oz said, ignoring the astonishment that washed over Gilbert's face. "Yeah, I'm not stupid. Anyway, that's all you need to know. For now…what's your name?"

"My name…?" Gilbert was caught off-guard. He started debating in his head whether or not he should give Oz is real name. The truth would be easier than a lie. "Uh, it's Gilbert."

" _Gilbert._ " Oz said, testing the name out. He beamed. "Come around again, okay? Or if you need to be places—you know what I mean—then…here."

Oz put his hand in his pocket and dug out a small strip of paper and a pencil. He hastily wrote a bunch of numbers down and handed it to Gilbert.

"What's this?" Gilbert asked, although he already knew. He tried to make his voice sound distasteful but failed miserably.

"It's my phone number, obviously. Call me." Oz smile turned less enthusiastic and just turned sweet. "I'd like to talk to you again… _Gilbert._ "

Gilbert took the slip of paper with the younger male's phone number on it hesitantly. He was truly unsure of what he was doing. He slipped the paper into his own pocket and got up to leave. Quickly, Oz ran away to get something, coming back almost as quickly as he'd disappeared.

"Here! Your gun," Oz happily handed Gilbert his gun, his eyes sparkling.

Gilbert took his gun and stared at the adolescent boy with disbelief. Then he shook his head. "You're a strange kid."

Oz didn't reply. He just smiled, his bright green eyes sparkling even more than they were before.

When Gilbert got into his car, he just sat there for a long time, staring into space with a blank expression on his face. He had no idea what had happened. He'd completely screwed up his mission. Still…he wanted to see Oz again.

No, no, no! He couldn't see Oz again. He had to make money for his family, and to do that he had to complete this mission. But he had a long time left before the deadline…so…Gilbert would have a long time before he had to worry about a cover story or anything…

Yeah, he'd be seeing Oz again.


	4. Chapter 4

Oz knew this probably wasn't good for him, but he was intrigued by "Gilbert Nightray," the very assassin that had been sent to kill him. Interestingly enough, the man hadn't seemed like much of an assassin, but Oz had sensed something on edge within him—some sort of twisted determination—that seemed off. Still, he was strangely intrigued by the stranger. It was ridiculous that Gilbert hadn't just killed him right there—not only was he completely vulnerable, he'd literally been _begging_ for death. The blonde-haired teenager couldn't help but wonder how Gilbert had succeeded at being an assassin with that kind of attitude.

Before he knew it, he'd been spouting questions, acting giddy around a stranger like he was his best friend. Oz hadn't even been thinking, really, but he wanted to see Gilbert again. He still couldn't believe he'd given an _assassin_ his phone number and invited him back. He'd gotten himself into a fine mess. It would be difficult to hide this from Oscar and Ada, and if they managed to find out, what would he say? Certainly not, _this is Gilbert. He came into the house the other day and tried to kill me, because he's an assassin. But he spared me and he seemed nice, so now he visits me!_

It occurred to him that he didn't even know if Gilbert _would_ visit again or call him. Although he'd blatantly failed, Gilbert had appeared to have been resisting some sort of pull he felt towards Oz. Oz couldn't help but be slightly excited at the idea that Gilbert felt the same way he did. He still had no idea what _this_ was, but it fascinated him and he couldn't help but wonder.

Oz found himself hoping desperately that Gilbert would come back. Gilbert had made him feel…unexpectedly happy and carefree. Despite the fact that Oz was happy sometimes without having to fake it, he was never, ever carefree. He'd relished that feeling being with Gilbert had given him without thinking about it. And he also realized that the fact that someone he didn't even _know_ had been the only one to ever give him that feeling was ludicrous. But he wanted to feel that way again, and if it meant taking some risks and putting his life on the line…

Well, he didn't even feel like he _was_ putting his life on the line. Sure, establishing some sort of relationship with Gilbert was risky, but he got the strong feeling that he wouldn't kill him. Gilbert was too…soft. Oz was sure Gilbert wasn't that way with everyone—after all, during his barrage of questions Gilbert had said he'd done this many times before—but he was with him.

Frowning, Oz walked over to a wooden nightstand in his bedroom and unplugged his phone, checking to see if anyone had texted or called him. His heart lifted a little as he heard the ping that indicated someone had texted him, but it fell again when he saw it was just Oscar.

 _I'm going to be out late tonight. Okay with you?_

Oz hastily texted back _okay_ before plugging his phone back in. He climbed onto his bed and fell onto his back, staring blankly up at the ceiling. Good. This would give him more time to think things over.

 **...**

Due to the current situation he was in, Gilbert figured he'd stay in a hotel for a while until things fit into place. He also wanted to stay in Oz's neighborhood so that he'd be able to easily see him again—although he hated to admit it.

Gilbert bit his lip, flipping the slip of paper with the teenage boy's phone number on it repeatedly in his hands. He was debating whether or not he should call Oz now. He probably shouldn't, considering Oz was the person he'd been hired to _kill._ He probably shouldn't call Oz _ever._ But he really wanted to, and he couldn't even comprehend why. Oz had interested him in ways he couldn't put into words. Even though he'd tried to deny it and brush Oz off, he couldn't get that green-eyed gaze off his mind, or the sound of the golden-haired boy's voice.

There was something fascinating about a depressed teenage boy who would beg for death and then, when not getting it, attempt to befriend the very person trying to murder him. Gilbert found himself wanting to know more about Oz, wanting to know more about this child who defied everything he knew.

And so he called.

It wasn't even a conscious decision, really. If he'd been thinking, surely he wouldn't have dialed the number on the slip of paper and put his phone up to his ear, waiting to hear the ringing, clear voice of Oz Vessalius. Indeed, when Gilbert realized what he was doing he wanted smack himself in the face, but he couldn't bring himself to hang up before he heard the voice he was anticipating.

"Oz Vessalius. Who is this?"

"Uh…um," Gilbert stuttered. He couldn't seem to figure out how to form words.

And yet, it didn't matter. "Gilbert? Is that you? You called!"

Oz sounded so incredibly happy compared to when he was weeping and talking about suicide that Gilbert couldn't admit he hadn't consciously called him.

"Yeah, it's…it's me." Gilbert was still contemplating hanging up on the boy, damn the cruelty. "Don't you have anything better to do?"

Oz laughed gently. "No. My life is less interesting than it seems—although with your appearance, that might change."

Gilbert bit his lip. What was this kid expecting to happen? He couldn't possibly be thinking they were going to become best buddies and go get ice cream or something. That was insane. Gilbert was supposed to _kill him._

"Look. Kid, what do you want?" Gilbert sighed, trying very hard to sound exhausted by the teenager when really he wanted to know more about him. Why did he have to be so enraptured by Oz? "This isn't going to go anywhere. We might as well distance ourselves now."

Oh dear God. Gilbert could practically _hear_ the pout that was, no doubt, on Oz's face at that moment. "I don't appreciate people calling me _kid._ And anyway, what're you talking about? Can't you just tell the person you're working with that you can't kill me?"

Gilbert's jaw fell open in a gape. He couldn't believe that question even had to be _asked._ Did this child think before he spoke? The answer to that was obvious!

"No! That's not how it works. He—he'll probably end my life himself if I go back to them and say that. He'll find _some_ way to ruin me, at least." Gilbert shuddered violently at the thought. "I'd have to have some excuse—some _good_ excuse. And to be honest, I'm not in the mood to spent time coming up with excuses, nor am I in the mood to get in trouble with this man."

"I don't think you want to kill me, though." Oz said, shocking Gilbert silent. When the blonde received no reply, he continued. "You seem like a good guy, Gilbert. I mean, on the inside. Being an assassin kind of gets in the way of being a good guy, right? Anyway…don't let people make you do things you don't want to do. Why are you even an assassin in the first place?"

Gilbert laughed darkly. "I just met you. I don't trust you. Plus, how do you know I don't want to kill you?"

Oz snorted indignantly. Gilbert gritted his teeth, feeling fairly annoyed at this notion. "It's easy to tell, really. You'd have killed me already if you wanted to kill me. But when I started talking to you, it was obvious this isn't what you want to be doing, right? And something tells me that you aren't going to kill me, no matter _what_ the owner of Timmy's says—that's who you're working for, isn't it?"

And at that second, Gilbert hated this boy for being so smart. Oz had already figured out that someone wanted to get rid of Cherry Blossom, and there wasn't much to figure out from there, but…still. His intelligence was making Gilbert's job a whole lot harder.

Gilbert hadn't answered, so Oz spoke again. "What's that guy's name, anyway? I never paid much attention to Timmy's. Didn't think I needed to…" His voice took on a darker, heavier tone. "…but apparently I was wrong."

"Kid—I mean, _Oz_ —in this world, you have to stop and expect the worst for everything." Gilbert said bitterly, ignoring how strange Oz's name felt on his tongue. He wanted to continue using distant, cold words in place of the youth's name, but something in his heart—a heavy, burdening feeling that made him feel sick—made him call Oz by his true name.

"Yeah, Gilbert," Oz said tartly. "I already expect the worst for everything anyway. And whenever I let in hope or anything like that, something terrible happens, and I go back to normal. It's better to accept everything as it happens. We're just tiny pieces in life. We have no chance anyway, do we?"

Gilbert, stunned into silence yet again, was speechless. It was terrifying to him that this sort of dark pessimism could be going on in a teenager's head, but then he remembered how when _he_ was younger, he used to think it was annoying when people tried to protect his innocence—because he wasn't innocent. Children are always less innocent than adults think. And now Gilbert was one of those irritating adults who was shocked upon finding out a child wasn't innocent, when really they weren't ever, were they?

Oz didn't say anything for a while, refusing to fill the silence, until about five minutes later. His voice sounding deafeningly loud after the quiet, Oz spoke, "I have to go, Gilbert. I just saw my uncle's car park outside. Promise you'll call me back or answer if I call, okay?"

Gilbert let out a sigh that sounded far less annoyed than it should have. _Why am I even trying anymore?_ "Fine…I promise."

 **…**

Oz let out a barely-audible sigh as he heard the jingling of his uncle's keys and the sound of the opening door. He had wanted to talk to Gilbert more—and he could tell that, the more they spoke, the more Gilbert's act of fake agitation with him cracked. He barely knew Gilbert, and Gilbert was definitely a danger to him, but that was exhilarating to a teenager, and he craved the day the assassin's act would finally fall to pieces.

"I'm home! You still awake?" Oscar boomed, blatantly disregarding the fact that anyone sleeping certainly _would_ be awake after such a loud exclamation.

"I'm still awake, Uncle!" Oz rushed out from his bedroom to see his uncle. A bunch of the feelings from when Gilbert had first broken in rushed back to him—his depression came to him at random, which was severely inconvenient. In his head he thought that speaking to Gilbert would remedy him, but he banished that thought immediately, knowing he couldn't. So he did the one thing he was most familiar with. The one thing he almost always did.

He put on a fake smile.

The smile wasn't even the least bit real, but after faking smiles for so long, Oz was an expert. He could make anyone buy his fake smiles. It was rare Ada or Oscar would see through them, and anyone besides Ada or Oscar would _never_ see through them.

As expected, Oscar bought it. "How're you doing, champ? Have a good time alone?" He winked. "You didn't have any girls over, did you?"

Oz rolled his eyes. "No, Uncle, I didn't have any girls over. You know I don't do that."

"You enjoy flirting with them a whole lot though, don't you?" Oscar let out a hearty laugh. Oz rolled his eyes again. He _did_ like flirting with girls, but he wasn't ever serious; it was just having a little fun. He'd never been in a serious relationship with a girl—or, as a matter of fact, a boy—and doubted he ever would be. "Well, you should be getting to bed. You'll probably sleep through the whole day tomorrow if you don't."

Oz bit his lip. It wasn't that he didn't feel tired; it was just that he felt restless as well, and so he knew he wouldn't be getting any sleep, regardless. Despite that, Oz obeyed and got ready for bed, and, after a hasty goodnight to Oscar, he slipped under the covers of his bed and closed his eyes.

As he'd anticipated, sleep didn't seem to be an option for him. An image of Gilbert Nightray haunted him whenever he closed his eyes. He wanted to get up and call Gilbert, but what good would that do?

Oz didn't know that, similarly, his bright green eyes were burned into Gilbert's mind as well, and Gilbert wasn't going to get any sleep that night, either.

 **...**

A/N - I hope you guys liked that chapter. For the first half of it I was kind of struggling, so sorry if parts seemed sort of like babbling. I really did try, though. And this is still going to get finished! Don't worry! Again, I hope you guys liked this chapter. Keep checking in with Love at Gunpoint! I'm rather unpredictable when it comes to update times. XD


	5. Author's Note

A/N: Hey guys. I was debating whether to add this as an author's note or not, and I decided it was better to let all of you know about what's going to become of Love at Gunpoint instead of leaving you hanging.

Don't worry; it's still going on! It's still very much going on. I just wanted to make my readers-all of you reading this right now-that the chapters of Love at Gunpoint probably won't be updated as fast as we'd all wish. I'm going through a period of time where inspiration for writing Love at Gunpoint chapters is a rocky road, and I don't like writing when I don't feel inspired because I assume I you guys can tell. I feel like readers can tell what the writer felt like when reading their writing, and I don't want any of you to feel like I was uninspired during any of the Love at Gunpoint chapters.

Anyway, was I rambling? Sorry if I was. I'm sorry if I'm testing your patience, guys. I don't want to, I really don't, but I'm going to have to. There's definitely going to be an extended amount of wait time for some chapters. I definitely apologize for that. But don't lose hope, because as I said, no matter how long it takes, I'm determined to complete Love at Gunpoint.

I really appreciate that you guys continue to read my fics and have such an amazing level of patience that I probably don't have. If you're willing to wait a little in order to stay committed to Love at Gunpoint, I'd be very happy.

Thanks everyone!


End file.
